Oblesklk
2nd Level Yellow Feather
- Joined
- Apr 18, 2001
- Messages
- 3,356
- Points
- 38
[poster's note: this story was not written by me. This is a story to go along with The Agencies: Issue One. It's not the plot of the comic script, but rather a fun tale of Peepers, one of the main characters in that book. Without further ado, here's the story, as written by the good Captain 
]
Before she teamed up with Agent 64 (Code name: Succubus), Agent 143 (Code name:
Peepers) trained in the nascent Psionics Division of the Agencies’ Academy. There she was
living proof that one should use discretion when…
TICKLING A TELEKINETIC
a tale of the Agencies
by Tee Hee Lawrence
Marianne—formally Trainee Agent 143—crouched—still as stone--at the bottom of the hill. The fact that no one yet had nailed her with a paint shot indicated to her that the illusion she was projecting over herself—a surrounding psi-mask of the nearby foliage—was adequate. Through such stealth, she had penetrated deep within Blue Team territory, far beyond the area where the contest was being prominently waged.
Then, she spotted the encampment in a pinetum near the hilltop. She giggled when she saw the blue pennant flapping atop the large tent pitched upon a thick bed of pine needles. The pennant made this all seem more like a game played at a summer camp than an exercise determining whether she and the other trainees would advance from the Academy into official roles in the Agencies.
She mentally adjusted the magnification of her eyeglasses and focussed on the figure casually lying on a lawn chair in front of the tent. Marianne smiled. How relaxed her mentor, Dr. Diane McWilliams, looked, stretched out in the chair, with her ankles crossed, as if she were on vacation! The tall and trim black woman--who could have passed for barely 30, even if she was in the Agencies’ Inner Circle--certainly was taking the exercise casually.
While Dr. Di was wearing her khaki fatigues, her shirt was unbuttoned (making it clear that she had opted to go braless for the exercise) and she had removed her field boots, which lay in a tangle of loosened laces under the foot of the chair. Marianne saw that, as the doctor lay, absorbed in a thick manuscript (Closer examination revealed that it was titled “Recognizing Genetic Markers for Psionic Potentialities.”), she was rubbing together her long bare feet—with their smooth, dark brown tops and their pale pink wrinkled soles—and was wiggling her long toes with the contentment of someone not expecting to be disturbed.
Marianne, surveying the camp’s perimeter, sensed why the Doctor was so confident. Several Academy trainees were nestled in hidden positions, waiting with hair triggers to pound any unwary intruder with livid paint pellets, thus eliminating the one so marked from the exercise. She also sensed a number of field projectors casting a wide electromagnetic net around the encampment. This sensitive web of energy, able to register equally well the footfalls of an insurgent or the mental feelers of a telekinetic like herself, would raise the alarm and direct the sentries to the discovered.
Furthermore, Marianne could sense, thanks to a plasmic ripple barely visible even to a sensitive like herself, that Dr. Di was personally projecting her own powerful force barrier, which would easily keep out paint pellets, potential captors, and the probes of would-be psi-spies. The fact that she could appear so relaxed while generating such a formidable force was testament to her paramount skill as head of the Academy’s Psionics Division. Her ease was furthered demonstrated by the casual way she allowed the coveted code disk—the ultimate prize in this exercise—to dandle on a lanyard between her two ample, half-covered breasts.
Marianne took a breath and mused, “Well, nobody said it would be easy. But, Dr. Di may have forgotten that, thanks to her tender tutoring, I know a trick or two myself.” Moving her gaze down to the doctor’s rubbing feet, Marianne thought, “That bitch really enjoyed humbling me in class….”
“Trainee 143, what are you doing?”
Marianne, proudly seated on the butt of a classmate she’d judo-flipped a moment earlier, said nonchalantly, “Well, Doc, you told me to render her helpless, and here we are.”
Dr. Williams rubbed one slender hand along her high furrowed brow with undisguised exasperation. With a well modulated voice redolent of upper-class English schooling and her Kenyan heritage, she, straining for even temper, said, “Romano…Marianne…we’re trying to develop your telekinetic skills, not demonstrate your talent for brawling. Now, get off of Trainee 175 and come stand by me.” Marianne languidly did so.
Dr. Williams’ trim six-foot frame was clad in a skin tight, burgundy training suit--bearing the Academy symbol on her left breast--and Mylar strand sandals with thick, clear acrylic soles, which only increased her towering stature and flattered her brown, high-arched, curvaceous feet. Her recruits, themselves wearing khaki fatigues and combat boots, couldn’t help but be distracted by the glittering burgundy polish adorning the tips of her long brown toes.
“Let’s give poor 175 a rest. And begin anew.” She took a compact disk from a table laden with sundry objects and tossed it at a small blond trainee. The woman caught the disk with a telekinetic feeler and brought it to her right hand. “Very good, 158…Tanya. Now, 143…Marianne, this time, without resorting to martial arts, try to take the disk away from Tanya.”
Tanya tightened her grip upon the disk. Ten yards away, Marianne, seemingly bored, narrowed her eyes slightly. Suddenly, Tanya fell onto her back as if she had been pushed over a barrel. The wind was knocked out of her, but she maintained enough of her wits to roll over and protect the disk.
“OK, stop. Nice recovery, 158. Marianne, must you use your powers like a bludgeon?
“Well, you wanted the disk. I figured on hitting her fast and hard.”
“So, where’s the disk, hmmm? Marianne, you need a …lesson in the art of subtlety. Psi powers are often best employed with a surprising amount of delicacy. Tanya, give Marianne the disk. Good. Now, Marianne, despite your best efforts, I’m going to take that disk away from you, by thought alone. ”
Marianne squared off against her mentor, grasping the disk firmly with both hands. “I know you’re good, Doc, but I’m a lot stronger than I look.”
“Well, then,” mused Dr. McWilliams. “I’ll have to distract you a bit, huh?”
Suddenly, Marianne’s eyeglasses slid down to the tip of her nose, and the belt of her khaki pants came undone, and her zipper slid open. “Hey, quit that!” shouted Marianne. She narrowed her eyes slightly, and the air around her seemed to shimmer. “That’ll keep you from messing around.”
“Ah,” observed the Doctor, “set up a force barrier, have you? You’ve made it very powerful, a seven-foot-high hemisphere. Very formidable. It would certainly block a massive frontal assault.”
Marianne flinched as she felt a tremendous blow upon her psi barrier. She smirked, “I thought you advocated subtlety. That was subtle like a brick.”
“I was just showing the class how strong your shield is. However, maintaining such a barrier requires the utmost in concentration, and it’s not easy to keep it evenly strong. Especially when one is parrying such ‘bricks’.”
Marianne fought off another strong blow to her barrier, and another. “That the best you can do?”
“Oh, no. That’s mere misdirection. While I find a weak spot in your barrier and….”
Marianne felt an itching on her right side. She shimmied and reinforced her hold on the disk. She felt a light stroking of her left side. This caused her to gasp and twitch.
“What’s wrong, 143? Itchy?
“N-nuh-no, it’s nothing. It’s--HEEEY!”
What felt like five soft fingertips rapidly scratching under each of her arms caused Marianne to squeal and grin broadly. She shouted, “Hey-hehheh! No fair! C-c-cut that out!”
The fingertips doubled and slid excruciatingly down her sides until they settled under her belt, squeezing and kneading her hips. “Hey-ohho! Stahahaaap!” She brought one hand to swat futilely at the invisible tendrils tickling her hips.
“For shame, Marianne, only a novice would try to parry a psi-probe physically. Besides, my mind is barely touching you. Can I help it if you’re a bit sensitive there?”
“Ah-ha-ha-ha-haaaa! It wo-hoho-hon’t work! Y-you’re not getting this. Heeheehee. Uh-Uh… Nope….”
“No? What if I do this?”
“NOOOO! BWAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA…!”
Marianne collapsed into uncontrollable laughter as she felt the feelers slip into her boots, doubling yet again and taking on a feathery quality as they did so. Twenty feathery feelers brushed along the soles of her feet and snaked between her toes—and she was helpless to stop them. Screaming with laughter, she dropped the disk and tumbled to the floor, pounding her fists and stamping her feet.
Dr. McWilliams calmly walked over to her hilarious supine form and picked up the fallen disk. She leaned over the cackling Marianne and asked, “Now do you see how effective a lighter touch can be? Or do we have to extend the lesson?” She surveyed the other trainees. They all stepped back, reflexively raising their hands, and insisting that, no, they got the point, yesiree! She turned back to consider Marianne and smirked.
Marianne squealed anew and rolled on the floor. She felt more tendrils teasing her under her arms, across her tummy, along her ribs, upon her hips, inside her thighs, and upon her soles all at once. She didn’t know how long she screamed with helpless laughter before the tickling stopped.
She lay on her back on the floor, gasping for breath and feeling totally stupid. She couldn’t believe how quickly Dr. Diane had rendered her helpless…with the barest pinpoint application of psychic force. It was a lesson that she wouldn’t forget. How could she, with the ticklish pranks her fellow trainees played on her in the ensuing months? How could she when the good Doctor, whenever Marianne rested her guard, snuck a skillful psi-tickle to her ribs or her toes, honing, she claimed, her pupil’s vigilance.
Oh, she had learned vigilance, all right! And now, working her way through the defenses around the Blue encampment, she would show the unwary Doctor Diane McWilliams how much else she’d learned.
The auto sensors were the easiest to fool. It was simply a matter of projecting a field at the same frequency as the sensors’ lines of force. Then, enveloped in her analogous field, she slipped past the devices.
She then focussed on her fellow Academy members serving as sentinels. She felt for any auras being broadcast. No, she realized, none of the guards were psi-skilled. The Doc probably figured that with the Blue psi-trainees being a precious few, she wouldn’t waste any on defense, not with her own supreme psi-abilities protecting the prize of the proceedings. Thanks, Doc, Marianne thought, for being so smug.
The CD player she’d stashed in the undergrowth a hundred yards back—after setting
its timer—suddenly blared to life. She had made a recording of a lunchtime rush in the Academy mess. Now the cacophony, sounding like an assault upon the hill encampment,
drew the attention of the guards, who moved down the hill to meet the aggressors. One passed
within a few feet of Marianne, who had disguised herself as an extension of the boulder she was
pressed against. Satisfied that they were duly distracted, she proceeded up the hill.
Dr. Di, who had briefly raised her head to consider the sentries move downward, returned to her reading. Her shield was impregnable, and she had sensed no disturbance
near the encampment. Her surprise, then, when what felt like thin bands of steel bound her
arms over her head and her waist and ankles to the chair, was total. She had barely begun to
utter a cry of alarm when she felt a band of force cover her mouth, muffling her.
“What the—Mfaghbl! Halpmwe! Gwuards! Mwafflpblaph! Ngh! Ngh! Mwahahahahahahahahahahahaaaaa…!”
She suddenly couldn’t stop laughing. What felt like a thousand tiny brushes and feathers
and fingertips were stroking and poking her all over! Feathers were swirling along the outer lobes of her eyes. Fingers were stroking her under her chin. Minute brushes were lightly circling the nipples of her breasts, whose arousal was only increasing her sensitivity there. She felt
wiggling fingers running up-and-down her sides. Feathers danced between her thighs. The tops of her knees were being masterfully squeezed. While feathers dusted the tops of her bare feet,
what felt like fingers dug eagerly into the soft, pink wrinkles of her soles, and tiny brushes purposefully slid underneath and between her tender toes. And something was driving her nuts
by repeatedly poking her belly button.
All these torments were entirely unseen. She knew it was the work of one of her psi-
students—come to claim the prize disk. But, she could do nothing against the psychic bonds and the psychic tickling, because she…simply…could…not…stop…LAUGHING!
Marianne stepped into the campsite and crouched beside the stricken Diane. “Aw,
is the good Doctor just a wee bit ticklish? Is this subtle enough for ya?”
She reached out and drew the lanyard from around the quietly hysterical Diane’s neck.
She removed the disk from the lanyard. Pulling her Poc Comp from her belt, she loaded the disk and transmitted its data to the Academy. As she did all this, her tickling of Diane lessened
considerably.
Almost instantly, sirens could be heard throughout the proving grounds. Loudspeakers blared, “The exercise is over. Decision: Red! Return to the main campus for debriefing!”
Marianne gloated, “How do you like, that Dr. Di? I made you see Red with a bit of your own medicine. You’re a good teacher. Sometimes a light touch is necessary. Especially
when the opposition’s as ticklish as you are!”
Diane howled anew into her psychic gag as the feathers, brushes, and fingers all returned with a vengeance. Just when she thought she would lose her remaining dignity and
wet her fatigues, the tickling stopped. Her gag was gone.
“By the way, I thought of a code name for when they promote me to Agent status: Peepers.” She straightened the eyeglasses on the bridge of her Roman nose. “How do you like it?”
Barely able to talk for her giggly breathlessness, Dr. Di stammered, “O-hoho-kay,
Marianne…Peepers! Heh-heh! Aren’t you g-going to r-release me?”
Picking up a pinecone, Marianne playfully brought it near her mentor’s bare feet, which flinched at its approach. Diane squealed as it barely touched her toes.
“So tickled pink that you can’t break free, huh? Well, I’ll probably never catch you helpless like this again, so I better make the most of it. Only this time, I’m going to show you
that, while telekinetic tickling is effective, nothing beats ten terrific tickling fingers. Kitchey-kitchey-coo, Dr. Di…”
And, with the utmost of satisfaction, the soon-to-be-Agent Peepers tossed away the pinecone and danced her fingertips upon her mentor’s beautiful, deliciously sensitive, happily helpless bare feet, hoping that no one would bother rescuing the haughty doctor for hours and hours of helpless, high-pitched laughter….
Be sure to see Agent Peepers encounter fiendish perils as she embarks on her first mission with Agent Succubus in THE AGENCIES #1!
]Before she teamed up with Agent 64 (Code name: Succubus), Agent 143 (Code name:
Peepers) trained in the nascent Psionics Division of the Agencies’ Academy. There she was
living proof that one should use discretion when…
TICKLING A TELEKINETIC
a tale of the Agencies
by Tee Hee Lawrence
Marianne—formally Trainee Agent 143—crouched—still as stone--at the bottom of the hill. The fact that no one yet had nailed her with a paint shot indicated to her that the illusion she was projecting over herself—a surrounding psi-mask of the nearby foliage—was adequate. Through such stealth, she had penetrated deep within Blue Team territory, far beyond the area where the contest was being prominently waged.
Then, she spotted the encampment in a pinetum near the hilltop. She giggled when she saw the blue pennant flapping atop the large tent pitched upon a thick bed of pine needles. The pennant made this all seem more like a game played at a summer camp than an exercise determining whether she and the other trainees would advance from the Academy into official roles in the Agencies.
She mentally adjusted the magnification of her eyeglasses and focussed on the figure casually lying on a lawn chair in front of the tent. Marianne smiled. How relaxed her mentor, Dr. Diane McWilliams, looked, stretched out in the chair, with her ankles crossed, as if she were on vacation! The tall and trim black woman--who could have passed for barely 30, even if she was in the Agencies’ Inner Circle--certainly was taking the exercise casually.
While Dr. Di was wearing her khaki fatigues, her shirt was unbuttoned (making it clear that she had opted to go braless for the exercise) and she had removed her field boots, which lay in a tangle of loosened laces under the foot of the chair. Marianne saw that, as the doctor lay, absorbed in a thick manuscript (Closer examination revealed that it was titled “Recognizing Genetic Markers for Psionic Potentialities.”), she was rubbing together her long bare feet—with their smooth, dark brown tops and their pale pink wrinkled soles—and was wiggling her long toes with the contentment of someone not expecting to be disturbed.
Marianne, surveying the camp’s perimeter, sensed why the Doctor was so confident. Several Academy trainees were nestled in hidden positions, waiting with hair triggers to pound any unwary intruder with livid paint pellets, thus eliminating the one so marked from the exercise. She also sensed a number of field projectors casting a wide electromagnetic net around the encampment. This sensitive web of energy, able to register equally well the footfalls of an insurgent or the mental feelers of a telekinetic like herself, would raise the alarm and direct the sentries to the discovered.
Furthermore, Marianne could sense, thanks to a plasmic ripple barely visible even to a sensitive like herself, that Dr. Di was personally projecting her own powerful force barrier, which would easily keep out paint pellets, potential captors, and the probes of would-be psi-spies. The fact that she could appear so relaxed while generating such a formidable force was testament to her paramount skill as head of the Academy’s Psionics Division. Her ease was furthered demonstrated by the casual way she allowed the coveted code disk—the ultimate prize in this exercise—to dandle on a lanyard between her two ample, half-covered breasts.
Marianne took a breath and mused, “Well, nobody said it would be easy. But, Dr. Di may have forgotten that, thanks to her tender tutoring, I know a trick or two myself.” Moving her gaze down to the doctor’s rubbing feet, Marianne thought, “That bitch really enjoyed humbling me in class….”
“Trainee 143, what are you doing?”
Marianne, proudly seated on the butt of a classmate she’d judo-flipped a moment earlier, said nonchalantly, “Well, Doc, you told me to render her helpless, and here we are.”
Dr. Williams rubbed one slender hand along her high furrowed brow with undisguised exasperation. With a well modulated voice redolent of upper-class English schooling and her Kenyan heritage, she, straining for even temper, said, “Romano…Marianne…we’re trying to develop your telekinetic skills, not demonstrate your talent for brawling. Now, get off of Trainee 175 and come stand by me.” Marianne languidly did so.
Dr. Williams’ trim six-foot frame was clad in a skin tight, burgundy training suit--bearing the Academy symbol on her left breast--and Mylar strand sandals with thick, clear acrylic soles, which only increased her towering stature and flattered her brown, high-arched, curvaceous feet. Her recruits, themselves wearing khaki fatigues and combat boots, couldn’t help but be distracted by the glittering burgundy polish adorning the tips of her long brown toes.
“Let’s give poor 175 a rest. And begin anew.” She took a compact disk from a table laden with sundry objects and tossed it at a small blond trainee. The woman caught the disk with a telekinetic feeler and brought it to her right hand. “Very good, 158…Tanya. Now, 143…Marianne, this time, without resorting to martial arts, try to take the disk away from Tanya.”
Tanya tightened her grip upon the disk. Ten yards away, Marianne, seemingly bored, narrowed her eyes slightly. Suddenly, Tanya fell onto her back as if she had been pushed over a barrel. The wind was knocked out of her, but she maintained enough of her wits to roll over and protect the disk.
“OK, stop. Nice recovery, 158. Marianne, must you use your powers like a bludgeon?
“Well, you wanted the disk. I figured on hitting her fast and hard.”
“So, where’s the disk, hmmm? Marianne, you need a …lesson in the art of subtlety. Psi powers are often best employed with a surprising amount of delicacy. Tanya, give Marianne the disk. Good. Now, Marianne, despite your best efforts, I’m going to take that disk away from you, by thought alone. ”
Marianne squared off against her mentor, grasping the disk firmly with both hands. “I know you’re good, Doc, but I’m a lot stronger than I look.”
“Well, then,” mused Dr. McWilliams. “I’ll have to distract you a bit, huh?”
Suddenly, Marianne’s eyeglasses slid down to the tip of her nose, and the belt of her khaki pants came undone, and her zipper slid open. “Hey, quit that!” shouted Marianne. She narrowed her eyes slightly, and the air around her seemed to shimmer. “That’ll keep you from messing around.”
“Ah,” observed the Doctor, “set up a force barrier, have you? You’ve made it very powerful, a seven-foot-high hemisphere. Very formidable. It would certainly block a massive frontal assault.”
Marianne flinched as she felt a tremendous blow upon her psi barrier. She smirked, “I thought you advocated subtlety. That was subtle like a brick.”
“I was just showing the class how strong your shield is. However, maintaining such a barrier requires the utmost in concentration, and it’s not easy to keep it evenly strong. Especially when one is parrying such ‘bricks’.”
Marianne fought off another strong blow to her barrier, and another. “That the best you can do?”
“Oh, no. That’s mere misdirection. While I find a weak spot in your barrier and….”
Marianne felt an itching on her right side. She shimmied and reinforced her hold on the disk. She felt a light stroking of her left side. This caused her to gasp and twitch.
“What’s wrong, 143? Itchy?
“N-nuh-no, it’s nothing. It’s--HEEEY!”
What felt like five soft fingertips rapidly scratching under each of her arms caused Marianne to squeal and grin broadly. She shouted, “Hey-hehheh! No fair! C-c-cut that out!”
The fingertips doubled and slid excruciatingly down her sides until they settled under her belt, squeezing and kneading her hips. “Hey-ohho! Stahahaaap!” She brought one hand to swat futilely at the invisible tendrils tickling her hips.
“For shame, Marianne, only a novice would try to parry a psi-probe physically. Besides, my mind is barely touching you. Can I help it if you’re a bit sensitive there?”
“Ah-ha-ha-ha-haaaa! It wo-hoho-hon’t work! Y-you’re not getting this. Heeheehee. Uh-Uh… Nope….”
“No? What if I do this?”
“NOOOO! BWAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA…!”
Marianne collapsed into uncontrollable laughter as she felt the feelers slip into her boots, doubling yet again and taking on a feathery quality as they did so. Twenty feathery feelers brushed along the soles of her feet and snaked between her toes—and she was helpless to stop them. Screaming with laughter, she dropped the disk and tumbled to the floor, pounding her fists and stamping her feet.
Dr. McWilliams calmly walked over to her hilarious supine form and picked up the fallen disk. She leaned over the cackling Marianne and asked, “Now do you see how effective a lighter touch can be? Or do we have to extend the lesson?” She surveyed the other trainees. They all stepped back, reflexively raising their hands, and insisting that, no, they got the point, yesiree! She turned back to consider Marianne and smirked.
Marianne squealed anew and rolled on the floor. She felt more tendrils teasing her under her arms, across her tummy, along her ribs, upon her hips, inside her thighs, and upon her soles all at once. She didn’t know how long she screamed with helpless laughter before the tickling stopped.
She lay on her back on the floor, gasping for breath and feeling totally stupid. She couldn’t believe how quickly Dr. Diane had rendered her helpless…with the barest pinpoint application of psychic force. It was a lesson that she wouldn’t forget. How could she, with the ticklish pranks her fellow trainees played on her in the ensuing months? How could she when the good Doctor, whenever Marianne rested her guard, snuck a skillful psi-tickle to her ribs or her toes, honing, she claimed, her pupil’s vigilance.
Oh, she had learned vigilance, all right! And now, working her way through the defenses around the Blue encampment, she would show the unwary Doctor Diane McWilliams how much else she’d learned.
The auto sensors were the easiest to fool. It was simply a matter of projecting a field at the same frequency as the sensors’ lines of force. Then, enveloped in her analogous field, she slipped past the devices.
She then focussed on her fellow Academy members serving as sentinels. She felt for any auras being broadcast. No, she realized, none of the guards were psi-skilled. The Doc probably figured that with the Blue psi-trainees being a precious few, she wouldn’t waste any on defense, not with her own supreme psi-abilities protecting the prize of the proceedings. Thanks, Doc, Marianne thought, for being so smug.
The CD player she’d stashed in the undergrowth a hundred yards back—after setting
its timer—suddenly blared to life. She had made a recording of a lunchtime rush in the Academy mess. Now the cacophony, sounding like an assault upon the hill encampment,
drew the attention of the guards, who moved down the hill to meet the aggressors. One passed
within a few feet of Marianne, who had disguised herself as an extension of the boulder she was
pressed against. Satisfied that they were duly distracted, she proceeded up the hill.
Dr. Di, who had briefly raised her head to consider the sentries move downward, returned to her reading. Her shield was impregnable, and she had sensed no disturbance
near the encampment. Her surprise, then, when what felt like thin bands of steel bound her
arms over her head and her waist and ankles to the chair, was total. She had barely begun to
utter a cry of alarm when she felt a band of force cover her mouth, muffling her.
“What the—Mfaghbl! Halpmwe! Gwuards! Mwafflpblaph! Ngh! Ngh! Mwahahahahahahahahahahahaaaaa…!”
She suddenly couldn’t stop laughing. What felt like a thousand tiny brushes and feathers
and fingertips were stroking and poking her all over! Feathers were swirling along the outer lobes of her eyes. Fingers were stroking her under her chin. Minute brushes were lightly circling the nipples of her breasts, whose arousal was only increasing her sensitivity there. She felt
wiggling fingers running up-and-down her sides. Feathers danced between her thighs. The tops of her knees were being masterfully squeezed. While feathers dusted the tops of her bare feet,
what felt like fingers dug eagerly into the soft, pink wrinkles of her soles, and tiny brushes purposefully slid underneath and between her tender toes. And something was driving her nuts
by repeatedly poking her belly button.
All these torments were entirely unseen. She knew it was the work of one of her psi-
students—come to claim the prize disk. But, she could do nothing against the psychic bonds and the psychic tickling, because she…simply…could…not…stop…LAUGHING!
Marianne stepped into the campsite and crouched beside the stricken Diane. “Aw,
is the good Doctor just a wee bit ticklish? Is this subtle enough for ya?”
She reached out and drew the lanyard from around the quietly hysterical Diane’s neck.
She removed the disk from the lanyard. Pulling her Poc Comp from her belt, she loaded the disk and transmitted its data to the Academy. As she did all this, her tickling of Diane lessened
considerably.
Almost instantly, sirens could be heard throughout the proving grounds. Loudspeakers blared, “The exercise is over. Decision: Red! Return to the main campus for debriefing!”
Marianne gloated, “How do you like, that Dr. Di? I made you see Red with a bit of your own medicine. You’re a good teacher. Sometimes a light touch is necessary. Especially
when the opposition’s as ticklish as you are!”
Diane howled anew into her psychic gag as the feathers, brushes, and fingers all returned with a vengeance. Just when she thought she would lose her remaining dignity and
wet her fatigues, the tickling stopped. Her gag was gone.
“By the way, I thought of a code name for when they promote me to Agent status: Peepers.” She straightened the eyeglasses on the bridge of her Roman nose. “How do you like it?”
Barely able to talk for her giggly breathlessness, Dr. Di stammered, “O-hoho-kay,
Marianne…Peepers! Heh-heh! Aren’t you g-going to r-release me?”
Picking up a pinecone, Marianne playfully brought it near her mentor’s bare feet, which flinched at its approach. Diane squealed as it barely touched her toes.
“So tickled pink that you can’t break free, huh? Well, I’ll probably never catch you helpless like this again, so I better make the most of it. Only this time, I’m going to show you
that, while telekinetic tickling is effective, nothing beats ten terrific tickling fingers. Kitchey-kitchey-coo, Dr. Di…”
And, with the utmost of satisfaction, the soon-to-be-Agent Peepers tossed away the pinecone and danced her fingertips upon her mentor’s beautiful, deliciously sensitive, happily helpless bare feet, hoping that no one would bother rescuing the haughty doctor for hours and hours of helpless, high-pitched laughter….
Be sure to see Agent Peepers encounter fiendish perils as she embarks on her first mission with Agent Succubus in THE AGENCIES #1!
